Page 26 of A Duke to Restore her Memory

Christina awoke with a start, her heart pounding. The carriage had stopped. She turned to her abductor – the big, bulky man with the small, cruel eyes and silver threaded black hair that was tousled after the journey.

“Get out,” he barked, grabbing her firmly by the arm. “We will stay here the night. It is too far to get back to Exmouth now.”

She struggled against him as he pushed her through the opened carriage door. She blinked, gazing around. They had stopped at a roadside inn near the top of a hill. The wind picked up, sending her hair flying like ribbons behind her, and she shivered violently.

She turned, colliding with him. His girth was as solid as a rock, and the smell of his cologne hit her in the face with the force of a punch. She whimpered in shock, her eyes opening wide.

Suddenly – sickeningly – it all came rushing into her mind with the force of a bolting, distressed horse. It was like a thousand dinner plates started crashing within her mind, one by one, breaking into shards as they hit the ground.

I remember him. I remember everything. My father was forcing me to marry him. He is a cruel, horrible man. And that is why I was on the horse that day, riding along the cliffs. I was trying to escape my life … and my fate.

“I know you,” she cried in a distressed voice, fighting him anew. “I never wanted to marry you! That is the reason I ran away in the first place!”

To her horror, he laughed in her face, gripping her arm tighter and twisting it. “What do I care what you want? Your father agreed to the betrothal, and that is all that matters..” His eyes narrowed, and he put his face very close to hers, so close that she could smell the sourness of his breath. “You will marry me. And that is all there is to it.”

“Shall I take the horses to the stables, My Lord?” called the carriage driver. “Are you staying the night?”

“Yes,” barked Lord Powell over his shoulder. “We will take some refreshment first and then retire for the night. Make sure you put the carriage away, so it is not visible from the road … in case the Duke of Newquay decides to play knight errant and chase you into the night, My Lady.”

Christina’s heart twisted anew at the mention of the duke. He must be home and know that she was gone by now. And his terrible sister would have told him that she had gone willingly with this ogre into the night.

Lydia would have told him that the lady did not even wish to bid him farewell after regaining her memory – that she wanted to go straight home. And why wouldn’t he believe his sister?

Her heart twisted again with the agony of a knife. The duke would think she had abandoned him and never cared for him at all. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

She blinked back helpless tears. She could have told Lord Powell that the duke wouldn’t bother playing knight errant to save her.

The duke had already been harbouring suspicions about her that had been fuelled by his sister, and it wouldn’t take much to convince him that she had simply abandoned Newquay Hall, fleeing like a thief into the night, even if he had gazed at her tenderly and told her to wait for him the last time they had spoken. Even though she had told him about the plot against him.

Her shoulders slumped as she gazed into the inn’s main room. Candles flickered and the fire roared as men laughed and chatted, raising mugs of ale in the air and toasting each other.

The brightness and laughter in the room contrasted sharply with the bitter disappointment in her heart and the sour taste in her mouth as she contemplated her dire fate.

“Do not shed any tears over Newquay, my dear,” laughed Lord Powell in a nasty voice. “His sister told me that he and Lady Frances Lewis are practically engaged. You never stood a chance.”

Christina glared at him, her heart pulsing, almost breaking into two pieces and scattering on the floor.

He twisted her arm again, quite badly, forcing her to move towards the door of the inn. At that moment, it started to rain. Thick, wet drops of rain fell slowly on her head.

Her life was over. What was she going to do now?

***

Sebastian leaned over his horse, squinting into the bitter wind. It was cold, and it was very dark. He glanced to his left to where Daniel was riding beside him. His friend looked as cold, stiff, and exhausted as he felt. It started to rain, great heavy drops falling on his head.

He gritted his teeth. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this – that he had rallied his friend to ride out into the night, searching for Lady Christina Whitford and Lord Powell. Daniel, of course, had agreed to do it with alacrity.

But he hadn’t been able to sleep a wink after he had left Lydia. He had tossed and turned in the bed, thinking about her and how she had just vanished like that in the night.

Mrs Sollock had been genuinely distressed about it – and he trusted the housekeeper’s memory of the event. Lady Christina hadn’t wanted to get into that carriage with Powell. He was sure of it.

And then, other doubts crept into his mind. Why would Powell have gone to such ridiculous lengths to plant her here? She was a lady of noble birth. Would she have agreed to them throwing her down an abandoned mine shaft like that? She might have been killed. It didn’t make any sense at all.

Eventually, the doubts were shouting at him so loudly that he got out of bed, his heart pounding hard.

He got dressed again, cursing softly in the weak glare of a single candle. Within half an hour, he was on his horse, fetching Daniel, before riding off into the night on the road that Mrs Sollock had asserted the carriage had taken.

They were climbing a road towards the top of a hill, where a steep cliff face plummeted to the beach and the sea. Sebastian knew there was an old inn at the top, where wayfarers drank, and travellers sometimes stopped to rest.

As soon as he saw it, he indicated to Daniel to pull over. It was worth investigating in case they had stopped there at some point and someone had seen them.

They were almost to the inn door when it suddenly burst open. Sebastian stopped short, his heart pounding heavily. He was staring into Powell's face, and Lady Christina was standing by his side.

His eyes swept over her. She looked pale, tired, and more miserable than he had ever seen her. And then he noticed Powell’s tight grip on her arm and knew she hadn’t gone with him willingly.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mrs Sollock’s version of what had happened tonight had been real.

His heart was filled with tenderness, so light and effervescent that it was as if it were floating inside him. He didn’t care if her name was Georgina or Christina or who she was. All he knew was that he must save her from this brute of a man.

“Take your hands off her, Powell,” he growled, reaching for her and pulling her away from the grip of the man. “I know that you took her against her will.”

Christina stumbled, falling against him. Her face had transformed from utter exhaustion and abject misery to hope and joy. She gasped, gazing up at him. He could see the light from the inn reflected in her eyes.

“You came,” she breathed, her words ending on a sob. “You came for me.”

They stared at each other for a moment, their eyes locking. Sebastian lost all sense of time and place. It was as if he were drowning in those cool, green depths.

But then, Powell lunged, trying to grab her again. His face was mottled red with fury.

“You have no right, Newquay,” the man spat, his eyes sparking with rage. “She is my fiancée by law. Just ask her father, the Viscount Draycott. He will tell you the truth of it. You have no right to take her from me!”

“You are not my fiancée!” cried Christina, suddenly furious, her green eyes glittering. “I refuse to marry you!” She turned to Sebastian. “I will not marry that man! He is the reason I was running away from my home that day. I stopped for a short break and fell into the mine. That is the truth of it. I swear it to you on my life.”

Sebastian turned to her. “You do not need to swear anything,” he said in a soft voice. “I believe you.” He swallowed a painful lump in his throat. “Do you remember everything now? Do you remember who you are?”

She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. “Yes. I remember and know I was running away from him.”

“You are my fiancée by law!” cried Powell, his face puce with rage. He waved a fist in her face. “Your father agreed to the marriage, and that makes it binding, My Lady. It does not matter what you think or want …”

“You will take her over my dead body,” growled Sebastian, stepping between Christina and Powell, glaring at the man.

“That can be arranged,” cried Powell, his eyes narrowing. The man swung a fist at him quite blindly. Sebastian ducked, raising his fists in the air to defend himself.

He was suddenly filled with a blinding rage. Powell was the straw that was breaking the camel’s back. His long day, confronting Hester and Barstow and then convincing his other investors not to desert him in his hour of need, rose up to choke him.

He had never experienced such betrayal before, such treachery … and Powell was a dirty Judas, too, as well as an ogre.

He wasn’t good enough for her. No one would ever be good enough for her. She was a jewel among women. He had always known it – almost from the very first moment he had seen her lying at the bottom of that pit, unconscious, with a huge gash on her forehead.

He lunged, his fist connecting with Powell’s jaw. There was a sharp crack, and the man fell to the ground, toppling like a felled tree. There was a sudden, deafening silence.

They looked down at the inert figure of the man. Daniel rushed forward, a grim look on his face. “I will deal with Powell,” he said in a quiet voice. “I will take him to the carriage and send him on his way.” He hesitated, looking from one to the other. “I think the two of you need to talk.”

***

Sebastian turned to Christina. Now that the threat from Powell was gone – at least for the time being – he felt exhausted again. He ran a weary hand over his face, not knowing what to say to her.

He stared at her. She looked so beautiful and forlorn standing there, the rain falling upon her, turning her golden hair to flaxen ringlets.

“I never knew,” she whispered, her eyes huge and filled with sincerity. “I really did run away and hit my head that day … I really did lose my memory …”

“I know,” he whispered, his heart lurching, reaching out to take her hand. He gazed deeply into her eyes. “What do you want to do now … My Lady?”

His heart twisted again as he waited for her reply. He could barely breathe.

“I … I suppose I should go home,” she said tentatively, gazing at him. “It is where I belong … and I need to talk to my parents.” She looked wistful. “I realize now that I cannot run away. That I need to face this.”

There was a small pause, filled with longing, so deep that it felt like a ravine. Sebastian didn’t know how to bridge it.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “You need to go home. I will take you there.”

He hesitated, his heart breaking in two again. Was he losing her? Had he already lost her?